Arabian Days and Nights
by masagiri
Summary: AU- In which Damian is a bratty Arabian prince, and Dick is his prisoner/manservant. Or, as Damian preferred to call him, 'the man slave mother brought home for entertainment'. Dick/Damian


Basically this is why I haven't really touched my other fic. Man this is the first time I've written Damian before, and to be honest, the first time I've written adult Dick as well. I have no excuses for what I'm writing- I just wanted to ;_; Not sure if I'll continue this though.

Being an international journalist had its perks. Traveling the world to write amazing stories? Totally a perk. Going to new places just about every week? Yet another perk. Basically, Dick really loved his job. It was never boring, and there was always something exciting bound to turn up. This week was Egypt. An architectural discovery in Egypt- according to his sources, some old ruins were uncovered near the Red Sea. A lovely article for the daring journalist Dick Grayson! At least, that's what his boss said. The 'daring' quip was usually clipped to his name when there was the possibility of danger factoring in. It was likely that these new ruins had a good number of ancient artifacts, probably with a number of jewels as well.

So, when Dick found himself surrounded by a number of mysterious cloaked men, he wasn't exactly surprised. Throughout his career, Dick had often found himself in situations that called upon him leaping into action and fending for himself, or others if necessary. Except, in this instance, he was outnumbered one to seven, which wouldn't be too hard if there wasn't a young Egyptian boy being held hostage. Thus, when the men bound his hands and covered his head with a black cloth, he thought it was much better than letting them kill an innocent boy.

From what he could tell, he was sitting on the floor of a boat. Probably the cargo bay of a metal ship, since he could feel the metal from his bound hands. Faintly, he could hear voices from above him. It didn't sound Egyptian, and now there was a woman talking too. Was there a woman among those other guys? Or maybe she was the head honcho. She sounded pretty though- focus Grayson, now is not the time to be thinking about how pretty the woman kidnapping him could be. As Dick sat quietly, trying to figure out what exactly was going on and whether or not he was ever going to get home.

Some time between thinking about what could be waiting for him wherever he was going and whether or not he'd see his friends again, Dick had fallen asleep. He dreamed of going to work, of going out for drinks with Wally and Roy, of ordinary things that he felt might slip away. Abruptly, Dick came back to consciousness as he was tugged up by the collar of his shirt. He could feel the raunchy breath of a brute holding him up, and now he could recognize that he was speaking Arabic.

"You must prepare yourself for the prince," is what Dick assumed the man was saying. To be fair, his voice was hoarse and his skills with the Arabian language weren't that great. But not he had a bit of an idea as to where he was being taken- a) Arabia probably, it wasn't too far off from the coast of Egypt, and b) to some prince, for whatever reason that was. Before he could even make up a response, he was once again tugged away along a blind path.

His feet dragged along the metal of the boat, waiting for them to arrive at their mysterious destination. For a long while, Dick could only hear the shuffling of feet, the quiet winds, and the occasional voices around him. Thinking they were taking a pit stop, he felt himself relax, albeit only a little. He couldn't help but hiss when the cover over his head was abruptly pulled off, shining a bright light into his eyes.

"Shit-" The man ducked his head down and shut his eyes tight, stars appearing beneath his eye lids. In front of him, the bulky man chuckled, amused by Dick's pain. He let out a groan, "You guys sure are hospitable..."

"You would do well to refrain from such outbursts." Oh thank the gods that someone spoke English. Dick tilted his head up, looking at a figure through squinted eyes. The voice definitely belonged to a woman.

"Uh right," Thinking his eyes were well enough, Dick looked forward, vision clearing, "Mind telling me why you guys kidnapped me?" The woman who Dick assumed was in charge was dressed much differently from the man who was standing next to him. Her clothes looked regal, and she was wearing a number of pieces of gold jewellery. As he examined her, he noticed that she had turned to look at the man next to him, giving him a stern look. Not a moment sooner, Dick was shoved to the ground.

"You will speak when spoken to." He heard the woman speaking over his grunt, "Remember that." A large hand grabbed the upper back of his shirt, pulling him back up to his feet again. What was with these people and manhandling him? "State your name."

For a moment, he didn't speak. Dick honestly didn't want to answer her, but considering the situation he was in, he didn't have much of a choice. "Richard Grayson."

"Duly noted." When she snapped her fingers, the brute let him go and moved past her. Probably on command. He was back quickly, now holding a small satchel. He tossed the bag at him, though he couldn't catch it since his hands were still bound. From the looks the other two were giving him, it seemed like he was supposed to do something with this.

"Uh..." He bit his lip. 'You will speak when spoken to.' Dick didn't enjoy being on the ground very much.

"Listen carefully, Richard Grayson," spoke the woman as the brute walked around him to cut the ropes holding his wrists together, "From now on, you will be serving royal al Ghul family. You will be personally serving my son, Damian al Ghul. Do you understand?"

"Uh huh... I don't suppose I'm allowed to say no, am I?" She looked at him, almost ready to get the brute to throw him to the ground again. "Right, well uh, I understand."

"Good. The bag contains what you will need to wear in order to properly present yourself to my son." She turned on her heels, proceeding to walk away. "Quickly change, and then you will be brought to the palace." Once she was gone, Dick pulled out the contents of the bag into his hands. There was a dark blue... vest? It couldn't really be called a vest- no buttons, fasteners, nothing; just something shaped to look like a small, loose vest. There was a pair of black pants, nothing particularly special, but they looked like they were form fitted- meant to be a little tight. Besides those, there were wristlets and anklets, and what appeared to be a metal collar.

"I'm supposed to wear these...?" He turned to the bulky man, speaking almost jokingly. His lop sided grin diminished when the man began stepping towards him. "Okay okay," Dick threw up a hand as a defense, "I'll get changed."

He was right. Those pants were meant to be tight- really, really tight. Dick wasn't exactly fond clothes clinging tightly to his body, but it was oddly comfortable. He hadn't worn something this well fitted since he was still a kid in the cir- No, he wouldn't think about that now. The vest wasn't much, and wouldn't really give him warmth. Though warmth wasn't really a concern in Arabia was it? At least not during the day. It was weird wearing the metal cuffs around his neck, wrists, and ankles. They were uncomfortable and restricting, two things Dick hated. Then again, since he was being lead around instead of being pushed or dragged now, he couldn't really complain. For now at least.

The dark, tiled room opened up from a wall in a corridor, Dick noted as he walked in front of the brute. The corridor was beautifully decorated; multi-colored glass tiles under their feet, embossed stone walls, and ornate columns evenly pressed up against the were definitely in a palace, and a damn nice one too.

They arrived at the side of a large hall. Dick first noticed was that it looked a lot like a throne room. On one end, there were two large chairs a top a stone stage. A number of statues and drapes that really only served an aesthetic purpose were situated around what he could see. There were also a number of lanterns set up through out the area. It was kind of inviting. He couldn't look for long, because a thick finger jabbed him in the back and moved him forward.

They were going down another corridor, almost identical to the one before, although everything was a bit greener in color. They passed by a couple of other people, dressed similarly to himself and the brute. As they neared the end of the corridor, a thin man was thrown out of the room at the end. He looked like he was malnourished, and very tired. Before Dick could go to help him, his guide shoved him aside, growling as he grabbed the frail looking man.

"You," He pointed at Dick, accent heavy, "Go. Prince. Now!" It was evident that he didn't speak English, at all, but he moved to the room.

It was easy to spot the prince. He was definitely bigger than he expected. Dick had imagined him being a small, young prince, but from the looks of it, the prince standing a top of the large circular bed was probably about 17. Another important note was that he was standing defiantly, and well, he was clearly naked. From the looks of how fit he looked, it seemed like he'd been the one to throw the man out before.

"Peasant! Why are you here? Were you sent by mother?" or something along those lines. If he ever got out of here, Dick made a note to himself to touch up on his Arabic.

"Uh, yes, your highness." That was how servants were supposed to address royalty right? The prince stared at him for a while, probably assessing the fact that he wasn't speaking Arabian, but English.

"Tt-" He crossed his arms, still standing as defiantly as before, "Another useless slave for me, mother?" said the prince, barely audible enough for Dick to hear. Besides the fact that he'd thrown the servant out, he didn't seem all that bad. Maybe it might be easier for him to escape this way. He didn't speak for a while, but when he did, he sounded very impatient.

"Well, peasant? Are you going to dress me, or shall I call the guards to get me a new servant?"

"What-" He had to dress the kid? "Uh yes, of course, your highness." Dick looked around the room and saw a large wardrobe at one end of the room. There was a large selection of colored pants, cloaks, and white shirts. There was plenty of gold there too, probably sewn into the clothes.

"Peasant, what's taking so long?" Jesus- that was what, 10, 20 seconds?

"Sorry, your highness," Dick quickly grabbed some clothes and went back to prince Damian. He'd never dressed anyone other than himself before. The clothes fit Damian well, and really gave him the whole 'royal' image. He finished fastening the gold chain that held the cloak together, and was about to step away when the prince cleared his throat. "..Is something the matter, your highness?"

"My shoes. Where are they?"

Of course. Shoes. "Right away, your highness." It would have been a lot easier for Dick to do this if he could have gotten some kind of manual, or guide or something. The wardrobe didn't have shoes in it. He checked the shelves, and nothing. Where did he keep his shoes?

"Honestly peasant, you are absolutely useless." He got off of the bed, moving to a second wardrobe in the room. Dick was totally about to check there next. Really, he was. Damian grabbed a pair of shoes for himself, putting them on himself. "I will only allow this today, because you have not learned how to properly be a servant, however, if this happens again, I will not hesitate to have you thrown out," Being thrown out sounded pretty good, then he'd be able to find a way to get himself home-

"And have you executed for your incompetence."

Of course. There's always a catch. Looks like he'd have to figure out something while he was working for this prince.

"Yes, thank you, sire." God he hated him already.


End file.
